User Unfriendly
by MLS1984
Summary: Set in House Cats Universe: Cuddy gets punk'd.


: Quick Note : Though set in the HC Universe, it's not really about the kitties, but I'd like to think it's still a cute sto

**: Quick Note : Though set in the HC Universe, it's not really about the kitties, but I'd like to think it's still a cute story, and you will all still love me anyways… right? Well, special thanks to User Unfriendly. Per your request, here's your story!**

"**User Unfriendly"**

Dr. Lisa Cuddy was having a good day. Which was bizarre, but she didn't complain. Gift horses, mouths, blah blah. Everything was going well, so why pick at it?

She had arrived promptly at seven. It was part of her routine with House on staff. Get in early, check for damages, make sure the place didn't burn to the ground, and make sure the patients don't have post traumatic stress disorder. All in a day's torture- uhm- _work._

So, it was to her extreme delight to discover that House had taken the previous day off, which meant that she didn't have to spend the next two hours consoling the psychologically scarred.

Or dodging lawyer bullets. Just the thought of another lawsuit threat made Cuddy break out in a cold sweat.

She first checked in with the nurses, who were delighted to report that there had been no sign of Captain Gimpy for over twenty-four hours. She grinned as she noticed that they all had a distinct spring in their steps.

Next, the other doctors. She floated over to the other clinic doctors. According to the frighteningly giddy trio, House had not been spied by their little eyes. Yay!

Delighted, but still cautious, she drifted over to the pharmacy. The pharmacist, who was about to go off shift, had the same news to report: no sign of House. Cuddy's delight instantly evaporated as a sense of dread seeped into her.

House would never, _ever_ abandon the pharmacy. He appeared _daily_. He would appear daily even if there was nothing left of his leg but a jagged stump. Oh hell, he'd show up _because _there was nothing left of his leg but a jagged stump.

Pain suddenly bloomed behind her eyes as a migraine wormed its way into her frontal lobe. House was up to something, and it wasn't good. Panicking, she dialed Sheila Tate, another pharmacist employed at the hospital. Tate was the only real friend that House had. Sure, there was Wilson, but Wilson was constantly trying to reprogram House. Make him a better man? Cuddy snorted at the idea. The sky was blue, rain was wet, and Gregory House was _always_ a jackass. These were the things she knew. House was not a man to change his ways. Ever.

"Hey, Sheila." She groaned.

Tate laughed, which irritated Cuddy inexplicably. "Oh, hell." She said, chuckling. "What'd House do now?"

"How'd you know that House did something?" She asked, instantly suspicious.

Sheila laughed again. "Come on, Lisa. You and I don't talk to each other enough to warrant a social call. Besides, we are talking about _Greg_ House, right? When is he _not_ up to something?"  
Cuddy sighed as her headache lanced into her neck. She massaged it irritably. "Good point." She admitted feebly.

"So, what's shakin'?" Sheila asked. "I _know _you wouldn't be calling me on my weekend off if this wasn't one of those Defcon 1 moments." She guessed shrewdly.

"House. Is he up to something?"

"Now, how in the hell would I know that?"

"Sheila, for God's sake- I know you and House have some sort of freakish brother-sister, bestest buddies thing going on."

"I thought that was Wilson. I'm just his dealer. People are always good to their dealers."

Cuddy snorted once more. "Heh. Just keep telling yourself that. Either way, you and House chat like old pals, and don't panic- I'm not out to screw with that, I just want an answer. Is he planning some sort of elaborate scheme? Things have been going good today. _Too_ good." As an afterthought, she sniped. "It's too fucking quiet here."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Whatever our relationship, House and I have a strict "Don't ask, don't tell" policy… Well, at least until he fulfills his dastardly schemes. _Then_ I get the play-by-play."

"Son. Of a. Bitch." Cuddy fumed. In the background, she heard a distinct meowing. "What the hell?! Not you too! Tell me you didn't jump on the bandwagon, Sheila, _tell me_." She almost pleaded.

Sheila laughed at Cuddy. "Sorry. You got me. That would be Leonard you're hearing in the background. He's just pissed at me because I just gave him his eye drops, and have yet to feed him as penance."

"Leonard… eye drops?" Cuddy felt her migraine get more excruciating by the minute.

"Sorry, Leonard's my new hairless cat. They need special treatments." Then she laughed evilly. "That'll teach my bitch-sister to mess with me."

Cuddy didn't even want to know. "So, you can't help me? At all?" She kept her outward calm, but Cuddy wanted to cry a little.

"That'd be a nugatory, boss lady."

"Argh!" Yowled Cuddy. "I'd better go, and get whatever this is over with." She hung up before she lost the nerve. She eyed her office with wary trepidation. "Something wicked this way comes…" She muttered. She made a slow trek to the door, and lingered just outside. She wondered what horrors lie within. If she opened the door, would she be smacked in the face with a crossbow, a flamethrower… a water bucket? She shuddered to think what House was plotting.

Opening the door, she ducked her head in, and quickly ducked out. Nothing happened. She did it again. And again. Cuddy did it about three more times before she walked fully into her office. When there was no obvious, immediate threat, Cuddy more or less fell into her extra plush office chair, thanking the bureaucracy gods for letting her sneak that little luxury into her domain.

Draping her feet across her desk, she pulled her keyboard into her lap, ready to indulge in her most deviant guilty pleasure: Hugh Laurie. Cuddy nearly drooled in anticipation. When her then seven-year-old niece dragged her to "Stuart Little", she was doomed from the moment he smiled shyly from behind those wire rimmed glasses. The last nail in the coffin was when she beheld the sight of a shirtless, tanned Hugh during "The Flight of the Phoenix". He was a sexy bastard. She joined his fan club when she noticed her first House-induced white hair. Every time Surly McGimp tried to prematurely jack-knife her into an early grave, she'd disappear into seclusion, and cure her stress with a little Hugh-therapy. It was probably the only thing keeping her from starting a high-caliber rifle collection.

With the eager purr of a cat with a freshly spied mouse, she entered her password, and awaited zen bliss.

There was a strange buzzing noise, and everything went dark.

"What?!" Shrieked Cuddy. She leapt forward, and stopped when all of a sudden, the computer began to reboot on it's own. She eyed it warily.

The sound came back first. _"If you want my body, and ya think I'm sexy, come on sugar, let me know!"_

To Cuddy's eternal horror, the screen wasn't blank anymore. With his head photo-shopped onto an overly muscular body, Hugh Laurie bounced up an down the screen, gyrating in time to Rod Stewart's voice.

_**Oh, holy crap!**_

Cuddy stared at the image in mortified shock. The headache she'd been fighting came back full force. She stood up, and the room swayed. She tried to get to her prescription strength Tylenol, but then the room spun all the way around, and as the carpet came up to greet her, she managed one last thought.

_**House is a dead man.**_

&

House leapt into Cuddy's office with a flourish. Er, well, maybe _hopped_ would be a more appropriate word. Wilson snuck in behind him.

"Ha _ha!!_" crowed House triumphantly over Cuddy's prone and unconscious form.

"Mraow!" agreed House-Cat from his shoulder.

"Mraow?" worried Cameron-Cat from the front of House's shirt.

Wilson stared down at Cuddy's still form. "Oh, crap, I think you killed her."

House peered down at her and giggled. There was no other word for it. "Nah. Just a migraine-induced fainting spell. Which, of course, is a testament to my mad skills!" He declared.

"Mraow!" Agreed House-Cat.

"Mraow?" Worried Cameron-Cat.

"Oh, shut up." He bitched good-naturedly. The two still refused to go anywhere unless they were together. He eyed Cuddy meticulously. She was _not_ moving. At all. Totally out cold.

House grinned wickedly. He fell to the floor next to Cuddy. "Wilson, help me out here! Cotton-poly blends are _very _restrictive, and Cuddy needs to breathe! Unbutton her blouse, and get a camera!"

Wilson grinned. Getting the joke, he replied seriously. "Yes, Doctor House!" And pulled out his camera phone. He knelt before Cuddy.

Just as House reached for her jacket buttons, she jerked upward, and glowered at them. "I'm _**tripling**_ your clinic hours if you even _**think**_ about it!" She threatened, and passed out again.

"Well, hell." Huffed House. "Damn sexual harassment bylaws!"


End file.
